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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167412">Herald Petrel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf'>TheStrangeSeaWolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidents, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explosions, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lost in space - Freeform, Multi, Science Fiction, Spaceships, Team Bonding, Teamwork, Technology, dysfunctional crew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An explosion leaves cargo ship “Herald Petral” helplessly floating in space, and Captain Harold Galahad is confronted with a situation very similar to the one that made him quit active duty years ago. He was only meant to be the replacement captain for this one flight. He knows barely anything about the ship and his crew, but now, the emergency demands him to be something he never wanted to be again – a real captain.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Character(s) &amp; Original Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So... <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kohane/pseuds/Kohane">Kohane</a> inspired me to try my own original Sci-Fi series and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodtuckering">agoodtuckering</a> was kind enough to volunteer as beta on this, my first real original Sci-Fi series.</p>
<p>I would prefer Peter Capaldi to play my captain in this thing. I'm aiming for a bit of Star Trek and a bit of Ulysses... with maybe a pinch of Star Wars, Stargate, and Doctor Who here and there. Aliens, spaceships, danger, friendship, romance, hurt/comfort, grief, and loss… You know, all the things that make life interesting and exciting when you are floating on a scrap heap in space and trying to get home.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Cargo Hold 5, 6, and 7 are destroyed. Twelve staff cabins on the larboard are heavily damaged. Main drive destroyed. Secondary drive… destroyed. Emergency drive… working at twenty percent. Emergency steering… at fifty percent, whatever that means. Main navigation system destroyed. Emergency navigation system… destroyed. Main life support systems… check-up still proceeds. Emergency life support system working on battery, estimated time until exhausted: 75.4 hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Commander Siff Braghor stood in front of Harold </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Harry”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Galahad, her captain, on the bridge and reported all the damage the explosion had done to the cargo ship </span>
  <em>
    <span>Herald Petrel,</span>
  </em>
  <span> barely showing any emotion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad remained calm on the outside, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was lean and tall, in his late forties, although he looked somewhat older due to his greying brown hair, the deep lines on his face, and the constant serious facial expressions. Steel blue eyes under bushy eyebrows scanned the officer in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Commander Braghor was in her early thirties, small and sturdy. She wore her brown hair short. Her facial expression, more, her whole body language, was determined and radiated confidence and self-control. Her strong eyebrows drew slightly upwards, which gave her a slightly concerned or questioning expression. Underneath them twinkled two brown, intelligent eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the many problems he had on this trip was that he knew barely anything about his crew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Captain Singh Khan had killed himself, there were no other captains available to command this urgent supply mission to Providence 5. Taking over Singh’s ship after three years of merely sitting behind a desk had not been an easy decision, but it was the only possibility and the last favor he could do for a man who had been his friend since they had studied</span>
  <em>
    <span> Space Navigation</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Intergalactic Law</span>
  </em>
  <span> together at university. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now, this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had happened again, exactly like it happened three years ago. An explosion, destroying large parts of the ship he was in command of. Back then it had killed men, women, and children… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and willed away the horrific images in his mind. He was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>captain.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was in command. He shouldn’t show such weakness in front of a subordinate, and he had to stay in control of his emotions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Casualties?” he asked, scared of the answer but successfully managing to keep his voice calm and professional.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three dead, all from O’Brian’s team. They were near the main drive when the explosion took place. They didn’t stand a chance. Two dock workers are missing. They were working in Cargo Hold 5. I fear…” There was a short pause, a moment of hesitation, as Braghor searched for the right way to report this. “Sir, Cargo Hold 5 was vaporized. I don’t think there was a chance for them to escape.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad took a deep breath and nodded, indicating that he understood, and she should go on with her report.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crew Quarters 1-6 were empty, luckily, as it was lunch break for the second shift. Still, we have 17 severely injured staff members in the hospital ward, with five of them in critical condition.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you suggest, Commander?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir?” Braghor seemed confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you are the first officer. You know the ship and the crew inside out, and you have just given me a report saying we are more or less helplessly floating in space with our life support in critical condition, and about one fifth of our crew is either dead or in hospital. And so, I ask you what you suggest we should do now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Braghor’s eyebrows shot up in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re asking me what you should do… Sir?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sounded incredulous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. You</span>
  <em>
    <span> are </span>
  </em>
  <span>my first officer!” he replied, equally skeptical.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What use was a first officer if she wasn’t able to advise him? He was new to this ship. They started from their base on Charkovaya two days ago, so apart from a handshake and some small talk, he wasn’t familiar with the crew. He knew the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stargazer Mark V</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a type of cargo ship, but he knew barely anything about the specifics of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Herald Petrel.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He expected his first officer to fill him in and advise him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Sir! I’m your first officer. So, it isn’t my position to advise you on what you should do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Braghor stood as stiff as a poker and stared away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was probably the oddest reaction he had ever had from a first officer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the first officers he had known throughout his career were aspiring young men and women who were eager to show how brilliant they were, and that they were more than capable to take over the command as captain. He was both surprised and angered by her phlegmatic reaction, a sharp contradiction to the confidence she radiated otherwise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, there was no time to think about it further. He was in command of this ship and he had better inspect the damage himself. It was important to show a shocked and confused crew that there still was a Captain on board.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, he stood up, told the navigator to take over the bridge, and indicated to Braghor that she had better follow him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you, all of you who encouraged me to keep writing this story by giving kudos and/or commenting. Thanks to my beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodtuckering">agoodtuckering</a> I can already provide you with the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Galahad entered the engine room to speak with the Chief Engineer, Lynda O’Brian She was currently checking something below the remnants of what must have once been a control panel. When she heard them enter, she crawled out from beneath it and straightened herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are things, O’Brian?” Galahad asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’Brian looked more like an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Irish innkeeper</span>
  </em>
  <span> than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chief engineer,</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her slightly husky, thickset figure and straight ginger hair, which she hid beneath a flat cap while working. Her light skin, freckles, and green eyes only added to the impression. There was a rather large wound on her forehead but it seemed as if she chose to ignore it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would only be technobabble for you, Sir, she said. “I’ll report comprehensive details once we’ve finished the check-up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’Brian stared at him as if he was an unwelcome interruption of her work. Which, in all fairness, he probably was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’Brian took out an oil-stained handkerchief and wiped it across her forehead. She stared at the blood, uttered a curse beneath her breath, and slipped it back into her pocket, and then her green eyes met his. There was anger flickering in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My team works as fast as they can. But listen, the explosion literally took us back to before intergalactic space flight was possible. The main drive is rubbish and I don’t think we can repair it. The duplicate systems… Sir, we are basically trying to maneuver a scrap heap through space, and we can’t even do anything about the direction we’re moving in the state we are in now. I can’t promise that you will have your report in an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he say he wanted a report? Not to mention giving a deadline under these circumstances... </span>
  <em>
    <span>How strange.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask for a report, O’Brian. I was asking how things are, meaning if you and your team are alright and if there is anything I can do for you to support you and to make things easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’Brian now looked at him as if he had asked for a glass of water in an Irish pub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you… can do… for us?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’Brian took her flat cap off and scratched the back of her head, obviously not sure how to handle the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, three of my best engineers are dead, another four are in the medical ward, leaving me with just my assistant and two engineers-in-training and what you see here,” she gesticulated at the engine room that was in a state of chaos with torn steel beams, smoldering plastics, and fire extinguishing foam, “are the remnants of our main drive, so, if you don’t have a single free wish left to make to a maintenance fairy or access to a time machine to go back and avoid all of this, I guess there isn’t much you can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see… What about our life support systems?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are running on the emergency one, which gives us about three days of air – </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After that we need to have found a possibility to at least recharge its batteries, otherwise…” O’Brian made a gesture that indicated they were all facing death. “We’re still hoping we can get the main life support system back to work, but as I said, Sir, I’m not sure if we can and I’m not even sure when I can tell you more about its status. Most of the sensors are damaged, and we can’t be sure if the figures coming from the working ones are still accurate, so we have to go back to our good old manual checking. It’s all about the hands and the brains now, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wiped more blood from her forehead with her arm before she put her flat cap back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, O’Brian. If you think of anything I can do to support your efforts, immediately call me and tell me what it is, okay? And that’s a nasty scratch on your forehead, better have it checked at the ward before it becomes infected. I want my chief engineer in the best possible condition!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’Brian stared at him as if he’d just said something really, very odd. As if he had offered to swallow a frog to keep the universe from collapsing. But she said nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, then…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Galahad rubbed his hands. Usually, he didn’t feel uncomfortable around people, he loved a good chat and got along well with everyone, but this was the second crew member that didn’t react how he had expected, and it made him wonder if something was fundamentally wrong here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the least I can do is to relieve you of my presence then, O’Brian,” he tried for a slight smile and a pinch of humor, but O’Brian just kept on staring at him as if he was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish, Sir! I have to go back to work, Sir!” she replied but waited until he had turned to go before doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she always that way?” Galahad asked Braghor once they left the engine room, mainly to brush the surface of a conversation with his first officer, who hadn’t uttered a single word since they’d left the bridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know…</span>
  <em>
    <span> Distant?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Assuming I’m a looming threat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first officer just shrugged, saying nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s Irish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Handy? Good grief, no! She’s as Ghoranian as Praggat in mint sauce and worshipping the deity of the three moons!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time he caught a glimpse of the actual human being behind the stiff façade of his first officer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, he replied, “Ah. I thought… Because of the name...” He failed to mention that his chief engineer also looked like a walking Irish stereotype. He was always carefully avoiding potentially offending remarks. “I don’t think O’Brian is a common name on Ghoran 7,” he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, she married a woman from Ireland, hence the name, Sir!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Braghor shrugged. She didn’t seem to be interested in keeping the conversation going. Perhaps she just wasn’t the talkative type. So, they made the rest of their way to the hospital ward in silence.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The hospital ward was a busy place. A Blunkarian nurse made sure they monitored the systems on the six intensive care beds. With twelve eyes and six tentacles, jobs that required a great deal of attention to </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>details were often filled by this species.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting this staff member before. He casually glanced down to look for the name tag on the uniform, which was a bit difficult to spot as most parts of the uniform were sleeves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello. We haven’t met. Glad to meet you, Nurse Oounda. I am Captain Galahad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nurse turned two of their eyes on him while the others kept on monitoring their patients. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are things, Oounda? Will they,” he made a gesture to the injured staff members, “be alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not authorized to reveal any medical data. All medical data has to be revealed exclusively by the Doctor,” the nurse replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that was probably the correct procedure to follow for a nurse, although he found it a bit odd. Maybe the doctor was very strict on policies and procedures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, Oounda,” he scratched his head and looked around the ward searchingly. “Where is Doctor Ayax?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Blunkarian pointed to one of the intensive care beds. He was surprised. Braghor had reported that five staff members were in critical condition. He saw six intensive care beds filled and she hadn’t mentioned that </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor </span>
  </em>
  <span>was among the casualties. She didn’t seem the type to have omitted an important detail such as that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, my goodness, what happened?” he asked, simultaneously addressing Oounda and Braghor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not authorized to tell you. Only the Doctor is authorized to do so,” the nurse quipped in reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She doesn’t look like she can do that, does she?” he barked, instantly regretting the tone he took and the terrible fact that he was losing his temper with a subordinate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Given the circumstances, with the Doctor being unconscious, you are the highest ranking staff member from the medical team conscious and on duty right now. This means you are the doctor-in-chief, Nurse Oounda. You are authorized to speak to the Captain about medical details,” Braghor instructed the nurse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed as if he didn’t command a cargo ship but instead a bureaucratic nightmare. He had always hated inflexible, administrative procedures and the hierarchical, almost militaristic, crew structures of the company. He had to admit that they had certain advantages, but personally, he liked to work with a crew of specialists towards a common goal, not with a group of boneheads who simply awaited commands and couldn’t think for themselves. Anyway, he just had to endure this until they reached Providence 5 and a new captain would take over the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If they ever reached Providence 5, that was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nurse Oounda, what happened to Doctor Ayax?” he tried again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was with the team that recovered casualties from the cargo holds when a steel beam came crashing down and buried her in the rubble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad flinched and closed his eyes, willing back the unwelcome memories that threatened to take over the forefront of mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it… Will she be alright?” he eventually asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nurse shrugged with all six arms. “I’m not sure, Captain. I’m just a nurse, not a doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not aware of the exact structure of your crew,” he began. “Who else is on your medical team?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not authorized to talk about the organizational details of the company,” Oounda replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad sighed and turned to his first officer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Commander Braghor?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s one doctor and two nurses,” Braghor replied pensively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A medical team of only three people for a crew of… what are we… a crew of one-hundred? One-hundred-and-twenty?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One-hundred-and-seven. It is deemed sufficient for a mission like this. We’re just a cargo ship delivering goods, not a scientific or exploratory mission, Sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” he sighed, “I will still need to know what to expect. Nurse Oounda, I command you to give me a status update on the injuries of all staff members on this ward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nurse Oounda obviously fell into a routine they were comfortable with. They reported all the injuries, procedures taken, and medication needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad tried to form a picture pertaining to the severity of the injuries in his mind, trying to figure out how likely it was for each crew member to recover and resume active duty again. It didn’t look very optimistic. Some key positions like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be off-duty for a long while, and especially in her case, he would consider himself lucky if she even survived and maybe regained consciousness, all just so she could instruct her staff on how to treat the other patients. As for now, the well-being of eighteen patients lay in the hands of just two nurses, and he wasn’t entirely sure how comprehensive their medical knowledge was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, Nurse Oounda. Thank you for the report. Keep monitoring the patients, and remember that for now, you are the doctor-in-chief, so you might have to take over the other duties the doctor usually has.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nurse blinked at him with all twelve of their eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have the training of a doctor, Sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I acknowledge that, Oounda,” he said. “But you have some medical training, compared to me or Braghor here. So, you have to rise to the occasion and do what must be done. I’m sure you can do it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that this aligns with company procedures, Sir. And may I point out that there is a high likelihood of incorrect treatment for patients if you assign this duty to someone who lacks proper training.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad glanced first at the Blunkarian nurse, then at Commander Braghor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Braghor, for that matter, looked uncomfortable. She tried to keep her straight and indifferent composure, but the fingers of her left hand that had been drumming nervously on a thigh told a different story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Galahad took a few steps to the side and lowered his voice to speak to his first officer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not familiar with this crew member, but it seems… I don’t know, if they are stubborn or afraid. Hard to read the body language of a Blunkarian. You, on the other hand, know them and it seems you want to tell me something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Braghor gulped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir. It is not my position to tell you what you should do, but it might be… advisable… to just tell Nurse Oounda that they won’t be punished for mistakes they make when they do the job the doctor should do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Punish them? Why should I punish them for eventual mistakes if there are no other alternatives and I tell them to do so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first officer simply shrugged. He turned to the nurse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nurse Oounda, I assure you that I take full responsibility for your actions as doctor-in-chief. I am aware that you lack the training for it but I – </span>
  <em>
    <span>and no one else, for that matter </span>
  </em>
  <span>– will hold you responsible if you make mistakes. There is no alternative to you taking over this job and I will acknowledge your protest against it in the logbook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not my protest. I didn’t protest. I simply pointed out that this order doesn’t align with the procedures and mentioned possible mistakes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will note it exactly that way, Nurse Oounda,” he sighed. “The wording will absolutely point out that you were following the procedures correctly and that it was me who commanded you to breach company policies, that you pointed me to possible consequences and that you obeyed the order of your superior.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir!” Oounda bowed their heads respectfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, keep me updated on any changes in the patients’ status. That’s all for now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to head back to the bridge, Braghor following a few steps behind him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a trial this all was. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments, kudos and constructive criticism always very much appreciated. It keeps me writing. :3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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